Poor Billy!
Notwithstanding the ingratitude of this rebuff, Billy sought out Jimmy Phillips and recounted to him the circumstances of the arrest.
“Oh, naughty, naughty!” said the deputy, caressing his nose. “Lake’s been a cowman on Rainbow. He knew the brand on that horse; he knew Jeff was chummy with Monte. He knew in all reason that Jeff was in there, and most likely he knew it all the time. So he sneaks off to see Lars—after shooting him from ambush, damn him!—and sends you to take Jeff. Looks like he might be willing for you and Jeff to damage either, which or both of yourselves, as the case may be.”
“It looks so,” said Billy.
“Must be a fine girl!” murmured Jimmy absently. “Well, what are you going to do? It looks pretty plain.”
“It looks plain to us—but we haven’t got a single tangible thing against Lake yet. We’d be laughed out of court if we brought an accusation against him. We’ll have to wait and keep our eyes open.”
“You’re sure Lake did it? There was no rubber nosepiece at Monte’s house. All the rest of the football outfit—but not that. That looks bad for Jeff.”
“On the contrary, that is the strongest link against Lake. I dare say Buttinski—Mr. Bransford—is eminently capable of bank robbery at odd moments; but I know approximately where that noseguard was at sharp midnight—after the watchman was shot.” Here Billy swore mentally, having a very definite guess as to how Jeff might have lost the noseguard. “Lake, Clarke, Turnbull, Thompson, Alec or myself—one of the six of us—brought that noseguard to the bank after the robbery, and only one of the six had a motive—and a key.”
“Only one of you had a key,” corrected Jimmy cruelly. “But can’t Jeff prove where he was, maybe?”